t was he who hired Jose to do the shooting."

"Oh-h!" Alaire hid her face in her hands. She looked up again quickly,
however, and her cheeks were white. "Then he won't spare you, Dave."
She choked for an instant. "We must get away before he comes. There
must be some way of escape. Think!"

"I'm pretty tired to think. I'm pretty near played out," he confessed.

"They're watching me, but they'd let you go."

"Now that I'm here I'm going to stay until--"

She interrupted, crying his name loudly, "Dave!"

"Yes. What is it?"

"Wait! Let me think." She closed her eyes; her brows drew together as
if in the labor of concentration. When she lifted her lids her eyes
were alight, her voice was eager. "I know how. I see it. He won't
dare--But you must do what I tell you."

"Of course."

"No questions. Understand?"

When he nodded impatiently she ran to the door and, flinging it open,
called down the hall:

"Father! Father O'Malley! Quick!" Then she summoned Dolores.

The priest answered; he hurried from his room and, with a dazed lack of
comprehension, acknowledged his swift introduction to Dave. Alaire was
keenly alive and vibrant with purpose now. Dolores, too, came running,
and while the men were exchanging greetings her mistress murmured
something in her ear, then hastened her departure with a quick push.
Turning upon the others, Alaire explained:

"I've sent for some of the women, and they'll be here in a minute.
Father, this man has come for me. He loves me. Will you marry us,
before Longorio arrives?"

"Alaire!" Dave exclaimed.

She stilled him with a gesture. "Quick! Will you?"

Father O'Malley was bewildered. "I don't understand," he expostulated.

"Nor I," echoed Dave.

"You don't need to understand. I know what I'm doing. I've thought of a
way to save us all."

Through Dave's mind flashed the memory of that thing which had haunted
him and made his life a nightmare. An incoherent refusal was upon his
lips, but Alaire's face besought him; it was shining with a strange,
new ecstasy, and he could not bring himself to deny her. Of what her
plan consisted he had only the dimmest idea, but he assured himself
that it could by no possibility succeed. After all, what did it matter?
he asked himself. They were trapped. This might serve, somehow, to
cheat Longorio, and--Alaire would be his wife.

"Very well," he stammered, weakly. "What are you thinking of?"

"I haven't thought it all out yet, but--"

At